


A New Year

by cthulhu_has_chaotic_stories (cthulhu_is_chaotic_good)



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Drabble, New Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:27:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22062550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cthulhu_is_chaotic_good/pseuds/cthulhu_has_chaotic_stories
Summary: Description: It’s New Year’s Eve, and Alex runs into an old acquaintance.A three hour drabble about an hour.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 107





	A New Year

It had been a shit year, all told. Jack had moved back to the States to finally pursue her degree. Alex was happy for her, but alone more than ever. But he couldn’t blame her. MI6 hadn’t stopped calling, and Alex hadn’t stopped answering. She’d already been almost killed once because of him, and she was losing her mind while Alex was away on missions.

Alex was 16 now. Old enough to legally sign up for the British military, with parental consent. Which Alex didn’t have, but MI6 had seen fit to sign on behalf of his dead parents. And then his military contract had promptly turned into an MI6 contract. At least Ian probably would have agreed with the papers Alex had signed. Alex really hoped his parents wouldn’t have, but it was too late to truly know.

He barely saw Tom anymore, let alone his other friends from school. He had left school, officially to pursue his own studies. It hadn’t been his choice, not really. But if it helped MI6, why not?

What else did Alex have going for him other than millions of saved lives?

And now it was New Year’s Eve and Alex, instead of being at Tom’s bash or visiting the Pleasures or visiting Jack in D.C. (all offers he’d fielded), was alone with his thoughts in a mass of hundreds of people at some rich guy’s house party in the middle of the Czech countryside. Technically not alone. There were a pair of agents posing as his parents inside somewhere.

Being drunk was never something that had appealed to Alex until about an hour ago, when he’d seen the servers walk around with unlimited champagne and wine and decided that at least a couple of people in his life had claimed that alcohol would turn their spirits. He didn’t really want to get drunk though. It would screw with the mission, and he knew hangovers existed. But at least a few drinks might help.

Alex headed inside to find a server. He grabbed a flute of champagne and then wandered around, looking at the wall art and avoiding locking eyes with anyone.

“Adam,” a voice drifted across the room, over the sounds of the string quartet playing in the corner.

Alex sighed, and went to meet his ‘dad’.

His ‘parents’ didn’t even look old enough to be his parents. His fake dad had an arm around his ‘mom’ and they were talking with another man.

“Adam, honey, this is George. He works in contracting.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” the man said, and Alex almost choked on his drink.

“Sure,” Alex said.

Yassen Gregorovich smiled genially. “Have you been having a nice evening?”

“There’s free drinks.”

“Yes,” Yassen acquiesced. He turned his gaze back to the adults, and the conversation drifted to news of American politics.

Alex all but chugged the rest of his glass. The female agent in the group sent him a reproachful look. Alex shrugged and wandered away.

Yassen Gregorovich was here. In the Czech Republic. At the exact same New Year’s Eve party Alex and two adult MI6 agents were at. He should do something. Should stop whatever evil plan was being enacted. Should alert the adults.

Suddenly Alex just…didn’t care. He handed his empty glass to a server and grabbed a new glass of champagne. Fine. Alex could try to tell the other two agents that Yassen was up to no good, but he doubted they’d believe him. They never did. Sure, Yassen was probably here for the opposite reason that Alex was. But since Jones hadn’t bothered to inform Alex of the purpose of this mission, how was Alex going to stop it?

It was funny. At 14, MI6 had treated him with kid gloves and would sugarcoat everything. Getting details out of Blunt and Jones had been like squeezing water out of a rock.

And at 16, they still wouldn’t tell him what was happening. Yet they had given him a gun and told him to…

Alex closed his eyes. It hadn’t happened anyway. He’d refused. He had _some_ morals left. His lips quirked into a bitter smile, and then he took a fresh gulp. He was sure his refusal hadn’t amused Jones. Who knew how much longer he’d be allowed to get away with that childlike view of morality?

Alex grabbed his coat from a coat rack and headed back outside to the balcony. Might as well get a good view of the fireworks when they went off in – he checked his watch – 57 minutes. Assuming he was still alive then.

Alex finished his drink and put it by his feet. He rested his arms on the balcony rail. Down the hill, he could see a small village. The lights were on at the village. It reminded Alex of a New Year’s Eve several years ago. Ian and Jack had taken Alex to a village in Italy. They’d watched the fireworks and played a game Alex could barely remember now.

A familiar voice spoke. “I heard you liked the endless drinks.”

Yassen leaned against the rail. He had two glasses of champagne, one in each hand. He offered one to Alex. It was probably poisoned. Alex took it. He took a drink.

“How are you?” Yassen asked.

That was a loaded question.

Alex took another sip and redirected. “Contracting?”

The assassin smiled wryly. “You’re the first to question it.”

Alex turned back to overlooking the countryside. “Why are you here?”

“Perhaps the host invited me.”

Alex glanced at Yassen.

“The host and I could be friends. Good friends.”

Sure, and the moon was made of cheese.

“Really, Alex, not everyone you meet is working 24/7. I imagine even you take breaks to rest.”

Alex took another drink. He was definitely starting to feel the alcohol now. Either that, or the poison was taking effect. He could feel Yassen’s gaze on him.

“I assume you are working though, with the way two people claiming to be your parents were claiming a connection with you.”

“Do me a favor and don’t mention my parents,” Alex said. Suddenly his throat felt tight. He ignored that. “Or uncles, or relatives, or I don’t know, people. Don’t mention people.”

“Alex,” Yassen said.

His looked to meet the killer’s gaze and suddenly he couldn’t see. Fuck. Alex shoved his half empty glass of champagne at the assassin and reached to clear the tears from his eyes. When his vision cleared, he saw the man looking around at the others on the balcony.

“Perhaps we should go somewhere else.”

“This too public a place to kill me?” Alex suppressed the hysterical laughter from bubbling up.

“It would be,” Yassen agreed, and began to walk to a set of stairs leading down from the balcony to the lawn outside the ground floor. Alex followed, not really considering the alternative.

There were tables of people under the balcony on the lawn. A carefully manicured hill spread out in every direction.

Yassen walked to a table and left his still full glass on a table, along with Alex’s half empty one.

“This way,” Yassen suggested, and began walking around the house. Alex turned to gaze down the hill at the direction that the fireworks were supposed to be coming from. So much for fireworks. Oh well. With his luck, they would set off a round of PTSD Alex didn’t know he’d had.

Alex trailed behind the man as he walked past the expensively kept front lawn, trimmed hedges and all, and to the valet station. Yassen handed over a set of keys to a valet, and the man left to fetch a car.

“Where to? A graveyard?” Alex asked, not really caring about the response.

“I know a bar. It will be harder to be overheard.”

The drive there was quiet. Alex slumped against the passenger side window and stared out at the view. There were few other cars on the road, with 38 minutes left until midnight on New Year’s Eve.

Yassen didn’t try to start a conversation. Alex considered texting his fake parents that he’d left the bar. It was less a conscious decision not to do that, and more sheer exhaustion at the inevitability of everything. Alex would be dead soon and it wouldn’t be his fault anymore.

Yassen parked on the street of the edge of the village. “I suspect parking will be hard to find closer to the bar.”

“I can walk.” Alex got out of the car and glanced up at the sky. There was still light pollution out here in the countryside, but not as much as London. Yassen caught the direction Alex was looking and looked up as well.

“I used to see more stars than this when I was a child,” Yassen said.

There were a lot of responses Alex could have had to that sentiment. A question about whether Yassen missed it was probably appropriate. Alex shrugged.

It was hard to read Yassen’s expression in the dark, with only a few scattered streetlights and the moon providing light. So Alex didn’t try. The Russian wasn’t the easiest to read at the best of times, and right now, with him (almost assuredly) armed and Alex alone and (decidedly) not armed, it was not the best of times.

“I meant my first question, Alex.”

“What was that again?” Alex asked.

“How are you?”

Alex heard a drunken couple to his right. “That way to the bar?”

Yassen stared at him, and then started to lead the way. Tiredly, Alex followed.

The bar was crowded, but Yassen forced his way through the crowd and emerged only a few minutes later with a couple of glasses of beer. Then he met Alex at the edge of a table outside.

“Do I really need more to drink?” Alex asked.

Yassen smiled. “You’re young, and you aren’t drunk. It’s New Year’s Eve. You could drink more.”

Alex took a sip of the beer and made a face. “Ian liked beer. I have no idea why.”

Again, Yassen’s expression was hard to read.

“I haven’t forgotten that,” Alex said.

“No, I didn’t think you had.”

Alex smiled bitterly. “Don’t think anything’s going to come of it though. I mean, ignoring that I’ll be dead before the New Year, and ignoring that I already tried to kill you and we saw how that went, I never want to hold a gun ever again.”

“Not even to save your life?”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t, but I don’t want to.”

Yassen nodded slowly, then took a sip of his own beer. “Good.”

“Sure,” Alex said sarcastically.

Yassen didn’t reply to that. They sat in the midst of the near midnight celebrations for a minute longer, and then Alex responded.

“They tried to get me to kill someone. Not in self-defense, on purpose. It’d be premeditated murder if it wasn’t for the government. And Jack moved away. I barely see any of my friends. They’re probably not anymore. So yeah, doing great.”

Around them loud conversations occurred in a different language, and Alex turned and saw in the distance the light from the house party they’d left.

“How are you?”

“Better than that.” Yassen considered Alex. “But once I wasn’t.”

“Are you an ‘It gets better’ ad?” Alex bit back.

“Do you need one of those?”

“I need a better drink.”

Yassen took another drink. “This is what they have.”

“They had champagne at the last party.”

“Shame.”

Alex half smiled before he turned serious again. “Did you kill someone the first time they asked you to?”

Yassen’s response was swift. “No. I didn’t have the right motivation yet.”

“What do you think my motivation will be? Find the man evil enough?” Alex stared at his near full glass. “What if they don’t tell me? What if they lie to me? What if they’re wrong?”

“Little Alex.” Alex looked up. “You can say no. You can quit. Leave the killing to a killer.”

Alex’s gaze hardened. “I think they are.”

“I think they are not. And which of us would know better?” Yassen tilted an eyebrow in a skeptical expression.

“Fair,” Alex conceded. He glanced at his watch. He didn’t know how, but it was just one-minute left until the fireworks. “Do you think whoever you’re working for will notice you gone?”

“Some things are more important than missing a little work.”

All around them, revelers began to chant down.

Alex didn’t know the Czech numbers, but he joined in with the cheering at the end of the countdown and stared up at the sky to watch the fireworks.

He wasn’t sure, but maybe next year would be better.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: There might be a part 2 to this. I haven’t decided yet.


End file.
